Some nights don’t end, they just disguise
They trade the stars for tired skies.
The sun comes up, but not for me,
It only lights what I can’t see.
I brush my teeth, I comb my hair,
Pretend I’m fine, pretend I care.
But underneath this thin disguise,
A storm is swirling in my eyes.
It’s not a scream—it’s something worse:
A quiet, slow, persistent curse.
A numbness pressed into my chest,
A longing just to finally rest.
"You’re broken goods," the whispers hum,
"The best of you will never come."
And though I know they lie like thieves,
Their poison drips between the leaves.
I try to speak, but words fall short
Like soldiers lost in last resort.
So I just nod and fake a grin,
While hiding everything within.
But still I rise, though barely so,
Though heavy winds refuse to go.
Each breath I take, each silent cry
Is proof I haven’t said goodbye.
Not healing fast, not flying free,
Not who I was, or hoped to be.
But still I walk, though slow and small,
And fight the urge to lose it all.
No ending yet, no twist, no cure
Just strength in choosing to endure.
When darkness stays and will not leave,
I stay as well.
I still believe.